Insecurities
by Ashleopard
Summary: Hermione has always known she couldn't compete with the women who usually caught Ron's eye. How's she supposed to believe him when he tells her he thinks she's beautiful? One-shot, Happy Birthday Hermione! Rated for light snogging


**Hello my fellow Romione shippers! **

**Good lord, has it really been a month since the challenge ended? Geesh! So much has happened…**

**Well, as you've probably guessed, we are brought here today to celebrate the birthday of one of our favorite female heroines; a woman who had inspired us and given us (and Harry and Ron) hope through the years. The girl who helped shape the generation in which we've grown and prospered. **

**Just as well, I would like to give a shout out to **_**idkwhattosaycats, **_**who celebrated their birthday the 27****th**** of last month. :) I was going to post something earlier but… well… life… anyway, I hope that you had/are still having a happy birthday (?) and will join me to celebrate Hermione's as well!**

It was unimportant in Hermione's eyes – something so plain and simple she'd never given it any thought. She'd always been confused by her mother's insistence. "Just let me do your hair up," she'd pleaded with Hermione. "We can get you a nice new skirt for your first day of school."

No matter what age – be it eight or eleven – Hermione's answer had always been the same. "It is pointless," she'd said. "What difference will it make if I arrive at school in my uniform with my hair done? What does it matter as long as I get good marks?"

"Someday you'll think differently," her mother had promised after each encounter. And, as per usual, Hermione had rolled her eyes, because her mother didn't understand; Hermione would never see reason to fret about her appearance. All that mattered was her books and school, and as long as she could succeed in each of those categories, who would care that her hair was frizzy or that her front teeth were large?

But, much to Hermione's dread, her mother's predictions came true.

No matter how much she tried to think otherwise, she couldn't stop remembering the way Ron had reacted to the veela at the World Cup. Once she and Ginny had settled into their tent for the night she decided to bring the subject up, commenting her opinion on the boys' foolish behavior.

"Ridiculous," Ginny agreed around a yawn, settling into her sleeping bag. "I know, but there's not really much to it. They find the veela attractive and they go mental, simple as that. It's really lousy of them, though, y'know? I mean, they're not even that pretty!"

Hermione allowed herself to dwell on Ginny's words as she lay, staring up into the dark above her. She could clearly remember seeing the veela and recognizing what they were, but thinking not that they weren't 'that pretty', but that they were beautiful (at least compared to her). In fact, it was because of that she'd gotten so angry at the reactions they'd received. _I'm kind of pretty, right? _

The worry was pushed to the back of her head until they returned to the Burrow the next day, where she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she was using the restroom. The image staring back at her seemed dull and boring compared to the breathtaking women that had danced on the field only hours ago. She didn't have to look really hard to see what a mess her hair was, and her eyes were plain, boring brown. She didn't even need to smile to see her large front teeth, giving her an appearance that may have looked acceptable on a chipmunk.

Looking down didn't help either. Her legs and arms were short and scrawny, her knees knobby and shins awfully exposed without her long socks. Back to the mirror, she leaned closer for a better look and frowned deeper. She didn't like how her chin jutted out automatically, or how her brow was almost constantly knotted. Taking a step back, she ran her hands down her narrow hips, her eyes narrowing as they found her unimpressively small chest.

She couldn't help feeling insecure as she compared herself to the veela. They seemed to have all the right curves in all the right places, whereas Hermione was just plain. Boring. Not extraordinary in the slightest.

Of course, Hermione never mentioned these thoughts to anyone; not until she told Ron.

It was something she had tried to avoid thinking about for many reasons. The first was _if. If _she and Ron got together… _If _they actually got to the point in their relationship in which they would be intimate. The second reason was because she didn't want to think about it more than she had to; she knew she was inadequate, and the less she constantly reminded herself, the better.

But as she lay beneath him on the bed, highly aware of one of his hands clutching her clothing clad hip, she was violently jerked into reality. _I'm not good enough, _she thought, responding to Ron's hungry mouth as best as she could through the anxiety she could feel welling up inside her head. _What if he doesn't like me? What if I'm too ordinary for him? I can't compete with the veela, or Lavender Brown, for that matter. What if he doesn't want me anymore?_

"You okay?"

She blinked rapidly. He'd pulled away and was gazing down at her, concern etched upon his face, illuminated brilliantly in the moonlight. She felt like shying away (for how could she possibly tell him the fear that had been haunting her since she was 13?) but at the same time acknowledged that she had to tell him sooner or later.

Later definitely seemed like the better option.

"Yes," she said. "I'm perfectly fine. Why?"

She flinched as he adjusted how he was holding himself above her, one of his thumbs coming into contact with her bony hip, no longer hidden beneath her shirt. Ron seemed to notice, for his voice softened. "You seem a bit distracted is all," he said, his vibrant blue eyes scanning her eagerly. "And I just… I want to make sure we're both comfortable with how fast we're taking things."

"Fast?" Hermione snorted, temporarily forgetting her worries. "We've been dating three months. I'd say this is a pretty healthy speed."

"Yeah, but… er…"She could make out Ron's ear tips reddening and giggled. It was at times like this she couldn't help but think how adorable it was; how easily he was flustered. "I just wanna make sure. I think we're both pretty serious about this, Hermione, and I… I don't want you to regret anything."

"No," Hermione said, leaning up to kiss him. She froze as she felt his hand on her stomach, the bottom of his palm touching bare skin. "Never."

That seemed to be enough for Ron. Returning her kiss, he let himself sink down onto her again. She trembled as she felt him pressed almost entirely into her, apart from the weight that was alleviated on his elbows in an attempt to, as he would say, not flatten her. As she traced his upper back, hair, and neck with her fingers, she appreciated his body. He was muscular and fit; something that the last few years of Quidditch and running had most certainly helped. His shoulders were broad and strong, his back a smooth plain, testing the shirt that covered it. His arms were long and capable of anything from yielding a wand to holding her, warm and safe and unique all the way down to the scars he had received from the brains back in fifth year. Even his large hands and feet and legs were, in her opinion, perfect. Perfect down to the very last freckle.

And then there was her.

She could feel his before mentioned hands gliding lower down her body, his fingers at the seam of her shirt. She didn't have to hear or see him to know what he was trying to ask her. Permission – that seemed to be a big thing for him. However much she wished she could be mad at him about his caution, she was actually quite grateful for it.

What should she do? Say yes? She recoiled slightly at the idea, petrified of what he would say if he saw her. She knew it didn't make sense – he'd already felt most of her while snogging – but what if he realized exactly how inadequate she was? How much better other girls were?

Her eyes fluttered open and he looked down at her curiously. "You did it again," he said, pulling back slightly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's wrong?"

Hermione opened her mouth, lie on the tip of her tongue, when she stopped herself. He was looking into her eyes, and she was finding herself having difficulty trying to find a reason to keep her fears from him. She was serious about this relationship, after all, and to be in that mindset would require not withholding such private, personal information that affects him, correct?

The words rushed out before she could stop them. "I'm not good enough."

He looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "Not good enough? What do you mean? Hermione, you're-"

"I'm just… not," she said, avoiding his gaze. "I'm plain and boring and my hair is a nuisance. I could never compete with half the women out there. I'm too scrawny and bony and I don't think you'll like… me."

There was a pause before Ron laughed, burying his face in the hair between her neck and shoulder. "You're completely mental," he whispered, kissing the side of her neck. He sat up to look at her, smiling down. "Hermione, you're honestly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Hermione felt her cheeks glowing and was grateful that he wouldn't be able to see how much she was blushing in the darkness. "That's extremely kind of you, Ron."

"Seriously," he said, his grin taking a sly turn to it. "Everything about you is so bloody brilliant. Your hair," he ran hand through her messy hair. "Your eyes, your nose." He kissed her nose. "Fucking bloody brilliant."

"Language, Ron," she reminded him gently, not having the heart to be truly angry with him at the moment. He only continued to smile, so much obvious affection and adoration in his gaze that Hermione had to look away to contain it all. "I… I guess you're right," she said half-heartedly, trying to lighten the situation with a joke. "My nose always has been my best feature."

Ron snorted and leaned down to kiss her. "I'll prove it," he promised. "I'll show you how beautiful you are – if you'll let me, of course."

Hermione frowned. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Ron," she said quietly. "I just need time is all. Is that okay?"

He seemed deflated, if only slightly. "Of course," he said, rolling over beside her and gazing at her through the dark. "As much as you need, Hermione. I'll wait."

"Thank you," she murmured, her words cut off with a yawn. She thought she saw Ron smiling as he scooted closer to her, lying on his back as he wrapped his arms around her. "It means a lot to me that you understand."

She felt him half-shrug beneath her. "I've been there before. I used to always feel that I was always the second best. Now, with you, I only feel second best sometimes."

Hermione cuddled closer into him, closing her eyes and inhaling his delicious scent. "You'll never be second to me," she promised.

"And you'll never be anything short of fucking beautiful."

She smiled and shook with laughter, relaxing. His words ringing in her ears, Hermione felt herself drifting into what she hoped would be a comfortable, nightmare-free sleep. _Never be anything short of fucking beautiful… I wish I could believe him. _

It was only a week later when she was due to go back to Hogwarts, leaving him and Harry to Auror camp. She and Ron had talked about their relationship surviving the test of distance and had decided that it was worth the effort.

"I'll see you first Hogsmeade weekend," she promised him as she kissed him goodbye. "Meet me in front of Madam Puddifoot's. Owl me at around 8:00 tonight and I'll send Pigwidgeon back with any news about Hogwarts, got it?"

"Yeah, I've got it," he promised, letting her go. Hermione bit her bottom lip. _It's going to be a long year, _she thought, her eyes catching on his arms that had just been wrapped around her a second ago.

She could feel herself beginning to get emotional and thought it would be better to leave before that happened. "Well, I've got to go…"

"Hermione, wait!"

Before she could climb aboard the train, he grabbed her forearm. Hermione allowed herself to be stopped by him and all-to-willingly stepped nearer to him. "What is it, Ron?"

"I, um, I…" Ron's face and ears were beet red. His eyes widened as the train whistle screamed its warning. "I think… you're beautiful…"

Hermione felt her chest glow and smiled. "Er, thank you, Ron, but while I appreciate your compliment, this isn't quite the time or place. Soon?"

Ron shook his head, looking slightly panicked as the whistle blew again. Hermione knew that she would miss the train if she didn't get on soon. "Ron I'm going to miss it, I've got to go."

She climbed aboard and quickly went to the nearest compartment, leaning out the window so she would be able to say her final goodbyes. Ron was still staring at her. "What's wrong?"

Ron didn't say anything, but extended his arm to hand her a wrapped present. "What's this?"

"Just open it."

Hermione did so quickly. It was… a necklace case? She opened it to find a silver-chained necklace inside, adorned with a jeweled, sparkling snowflake. "Oh, Ron," she said, her face heating up. "It's beautiful, but how much did you spend on it? I couldn't possibly-"

"You'll keep it," Ron said, looking down, his ears fire truck red. "I – I just thought… after last week… you're beautiful, Hermione, and unique and… blimey, I'm not good at these sort of speeches… but I want you to remember that… because I love you, and I truly believe what I said… about you being the most beautiful woman, I mean."

Hermione beamed widely down at him. While she loved strong and sexy Ron Weasley, there was something about cute and stuttering Ron Weasley that made her heart melt. "Thank you, Ron, this means a lot to me…"

But the whistle had sounded again and the train was starting to move. Hermione leaned out of her window further to wave goodbye. "I'll see you soon!"

He was grinning broadly as she lost sight of him. Pulling back into the compartment, Hermione pulled out the necklace and pushed her wild curly hair aside so she could reach around the back of her neck. With slight difficulty she managed to clip it together. Looking down, she could just see the little snowflake glimmering against the skin just below her collarbone. She wrapped her hand around it and closed her eyes, feeling the cold metal in her warm hands. She smiled slightly.

_I love you too, Ron, and maybe that's enough. _

**Yup, nothing like a few insecurities for Hermione's birthday!**

**Anyway, now that we've finished the fic, let's talk business.**

**My first priority (behind school, regrettably) is chapter three for **_**The Dream Hermione**_**, which is being as stubborn as ever. However, once I get that done, I will begin that A-Z Challenge thing I talked about last time I wrote (because let's face it; if I do the challenge Chapter Three will never get done). **

**Unfortunately, things in real life have taken the strangest turn. School has taken to an annoyingly stressful start and, added to other circumstances, I'm having a hard time doing anything that isn't procrastinating or homework. This is actually some of the first stuff I've written in the last month. **

**So if you liked this short story, please like/review! Your thoughts are the most important things in the world to me! Also, I you haven't already checked out my OTP Challenge, I suggest you do so (because I'm greedy and want five more reviews so I'll have exactly 100). **

**Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!**


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